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Tomboys. Lately I've really been getting into the tomboys. I'm going to make a list of the Top Ten Tomboys of History:
1) Amelia Earhart
2) Joan of Arc
...OK, that's all I can think of right now.
Still really into the girly girls too, but while other guys are surfing the web for porn, I'm scouring the Internet looking for pictures of Amelia Earhart.
"When we were having sex, there, the first time... and right when I came, I sort of let out that little fart... Did that freak you out?"
"I didn't notice."
"You didn't notice? ... Ahh, I never should have said anything, I feel like an idiot now. I was just wondering if women found that to be a huge turnoff."
"Mmm, no, I don't think so really."
"I mean, it's not like it was this big ripper or anything, but it was audible, and I just went, 'Whoop!'" We were both laughing by this point. "So does that happen a lot? Has it ever happened to you?"
"Actually, yes, I can remember this one time specifically... I was like, 'Ohh, my god.'"
"It totally took me by surprise. Well, I probably shouldn't even have mentioned it."
I saw an Ali G skit where he interviews a feminist, and then he starts talking about women who get drunk at a party and decide they want to "try feminism."
I'm a big supporter of "feminism" and that's pretty much all I'm going to say about it, except to note that I currently have hickeys on both sides of my neck.
I took the night off work on Wednesday.
I have so much cool stuff happening right now, I could easily have spent six hours in my room by myself. Then I'd look at the clock at 3am and say, "Damn, I forgot to go get laid."
So sometime after 11pm I ventured out into the Halifax night, with the plan that I would follow my dick around and see what happened. I was on my way to the Khyber Club but I never made it.
Ran into two lovely ladies on a street corner, along with some drunk eccentric guy. "Come and have a drink with us." So we popped into the neighbourhood pub.
"My friend thinks you're cute," whispered one of the women, with whom I have a history.
"Switch seats with me," I whispered back. Away from the drunk guy... close to the cute girl.
I got into a pleasant conversation that resisted my subtle attempts to move to a higher level of flirtation. So I finished my drink and reached for my jacket.
"That sounds like a good idea, why don't we all go to the Khyber?" Possibly indicating that she is interested in sharing my company after all.
"Okay, but we have to ditch the weird guy," I said because I am ruthless.
So I set off up the sidewalk with a couple of fun-loving honeys. Made it about a block and a half before a voice came floating across the street: "Hi, Philip..."
Was it the smile and the tilt of the head... the halted step, the angle of a black boot turning to point in my direction?
It was amazing, this woman seduced me from across the street and it took about a quarter of a second.
I crossed the street to say hello. At the time, I didn't even realize what was happening. My cock knew. "Hello" turned into "How are you doing?" and my two friends were continuing up the sidewalk without me and I hadn't even said goodbye. (Two hot women in the city... they'll have a good time regardless.) I told you I was ruthless.
Flirting on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful night in Halifax. I love winter.
"How are you doing" turned into "How's your love life." Now that is a conversation I can sink my teeth into.
It turned out her boyfriend had been neglecting her. Silly, silly man. Five minutes later we were hanging out in her kitchen.
"Will you be nice to me?" she asked and that was all right because lately I've been moving away from the rough stuff a little bit.
I was nice. Well, as nice as you can be when you're giving someone a good drilling.
When I came, it was a tidal wave that roared up Gottingen Street, splashed up the side of Citadel Hill and filled in all the moats of that star-shaped fort.
"I read your website," she said.
"Did you like it?" I asked innocently.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm not here tonight to try to pick you up."
"Okay."
"I'm just here to be here," she said. "I don't even know why I'm here."
"Okay."
"Because you have to work, and then you have to go home and sleep or whatever."
I smiled. Actually, I had different reasons for wanting to give notice on this site that women shouldn't come to the Marquee to pick me up.
Partly it was a test, to weed out anyone who wasn't serious enough.
Also: I've hung out with quite a few women. I don't want any of them to avoid the club because they think that as soon as I see them, I'll be thinking about going home with them. I wanted to take a bit of social pressure off everyone.
So I assured this young lady that I assumed nothing by her presence.
I am, in general, pretty unassuming.
Anyway, after I finished work we went back to my place and beat the shit out of each other.
Saturday night the club was open until 4:30am. I met a woman at 4:29am and 30 seconds. How's that for timing.
She got one of her guy friends to approach me. He was a nice guy. Damn, there is a use in this world for nice guys!
Seriously though, I owe this man a drink. He put me on the trail of a sexy woman. A smart woman. And obviously a sophisticated woman, because we went straight back to her place.
Well, we made out in her car for a while first. But basically, she saw me and knew she wanted me and it was mutual and that was that.
I remain adamant that this is how it should be done. Humans can connect in a wonderful way that is impeded by that whole "getting to know you" business. I love it.
It's not that I think getting to know people is bullshit. Perhaps I believe that many social constructions are bullshit. Obstacles to action and affection. But I digress.
I love the little glimpse into a person's world that comes from sleeping with a stranger.
It's like if you're at someone's house and you wander into a room in the middle of a movie. You watch it for a while--just enough to get the sense that it's a really interesting movie. Then you get on with your day.
Whereas last night I hung out with a really good friend. I don't really write about her on this website. But she knows I am fond of her and fond of fondling her. She's creative and smart and happens to be physically stunning.
The best part is that she knows I'm a dog and doesn't seem to have a problem with it. This morning she looked over my body and said solemnly, "You look as though you got beat up."
Sometimes when I come it takes a long time and by the time it's over I'm getting turned on again and I just want to keep on going because it feels so good.
But I get a little freaked out by the thought of a condom full of sperm hanging around inside my lady's body.
If I stop and take the rubber off, however, then I start to think about rinsing off my noodle and getting a drink of water or something instead of continuing to fuck.
I haven't really figured this one out yet.
Regardless, it was indeed "lovely."
I'm so sexed up these days it's crazy. I find February is the hottest month for promiscuous action. Every year I say this. Do you believe me yet?
I love winter. I love February.
I haven't been updating my website because I haven't had time. It just seems like sex is everywhere I go.
Sunday I stumbled into the North End Diner for brunch and sprawled out in a booth with a nice view of a very pretty girl. She was sitting across from two guys. They looked like nice guys. If one of them was her boyfriend, it wasn't obvious--shouldn't he sit beside her and feel her up?
She was really cute. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail; dark eyes. Black eyebrows. A mischievous laugh that carried across the aisle.
Anyway, they were waiting for their order. She opened up a little tub of honey. She was dipping a spoon in it and licking off the honey. She was still taking part in the conversation; nodding and saying "Uh-huh" while licking honey off the spoon.
I thought, now that's hot.
I noticed that, long after the honey was gone, she was still swirling the spoon around in her mouth. Tracing the tip of the spoon around her lips. Her tongue slid in and out of her mouth, over and under the spoon.
I just sat and watched her do this for like, five minutes.
Thinking, now that's even hotter.
"Wait a minute. Is that a hickey on her neck? No, it's just a loose wisp of hair... Oh my god. It IS a hickey."
I thought I was gonna die.
"Red is the colour of hot action," I remember writing on this site once (too lazy to go find where). "I wear red all the time" or words to that effect.
Might have to rethink this a little bit. I was on a date a couple nights ago and it went really well and when things came down to the crunch, she told me it was not the best time for her.
"That's why I wore a red shirt," she explained.
Is this some secret code of women that I didn't know about until now? Wearing red as an indicator that Aunt Martha's in town? This could mess up my whole system of sexual signals.
Anyway. She had a slammin' body. We just worked around Aunt Martha... so to speak. It was hot!
I've been thinking about her subtle advertisement of time-of-month. It was a first date and she was already thinking about me in relation to her sexual status. Awww. That's pretty sweet!
I can often tell with women and their business. I don't know, I just seem to be able to smell it... I made these A/V t-shirts to sell to cute girls and they're all red. What have I done!
I wrote an entry about how I have three jobs now, and I'm a busy guy, and please don't come to the club trying to pick me up at 4am because it's my least favourite time of day to have sex and I need to sleep sometime.
But I changed my mind about posting all that.
I'm doing it. I'm doing a lot of stumbling around. I drag myself outside at 2 in the afternoon. Blink in the winter sunlight.
I am completely fuck-sore. My whole body. Some days I can hardly walk.
